Diplomatic Troubles
by Imperator Justinian
Summary: A satire on how diplomacy works in Civilization 5. When Justinian is forced into a variety of troublesome diplomatic situations, from demanding neighbors to deranged warmongers, he is forced to use all of his diplomatic skill to get through it. Or maybe just a sarcastic remark.


Hello there! Justinian here, with the first non-Pokémon story I've written (so far). I've decided to write this satire out of my frustration at how diplomacy works in Civ 5. Anyways, before I start, prepare for the longest Author's Notes I've given.

As a whole, Civ 5 was a major step up from Civ 4; culture, trade, technology, religion and warfare were all improved greatly as well as making the civilization you choose to play feel truly unique. While I do miss a few features from Civ 4; more than one leader per civilization, each civilization having both one unique unit and building (I miss the incredible synergy the Byzantines had in Civ 4; the Dromon may be a great unit but you can't really use it effectively) as well as the cultural aspect when it came to your population and, last but not least, random events. But those are mostly negligible considering how great Civ 5 is. But the one thing that actually got worse with Civ 5 is diplomacy.

For one Firaxis can really take a leaf out of Paradox and CA's books: Alliances, Vassalage, Trade Agreements and a real measurement of opinion (If someone's friendly to you, they shouldn't have a sudden change of heart if you convert a single city, and the tally system in Civ 4 kept that from happening). Civ 5 lacks these, ensuring that you can never have a reliable friend outside of teammates and took away many other features of diplomacy from Civ 4. There's no more map trading, tech trading, no more asking leaders what they think of someone else and no more vassals.

Likewise the relationship aspect has been really dumbed down, and seems to be based more on high school politics than real world politics (i.e.: you keep helping me whenever I ask, but I'm going to denounce you because someone I barely like more than you denounced you). Add that to the fact that the AI never forgives you for something you did two thousand years ago and you get domino-like denouncings if you make one wrong move makes for one of the worst diplomatic interfaces in Civ history. So I hope to get into these matters, as well as quite a few others involving diplomacy, in this story and hopefully tackle them in a funny manner. Before I start though, I would like to say that the main character is my namesake rather than Theodora (whose constant plotting, like Wu Zetian's, did more harm than good) and since he appeared in Civ 4 rather than 5 he'll make multiple allusions to the now defunct diplomatic aspects of said game.

Disclaimer: I do not own Civilization 5 or anything associated with it.

* * *

**1500 BC, Constantinople, Blachernae Palace**

Justinian yawned as he sat upon the Imperial Throne, absentmindedly gazing at the elaborate doors across from him, waiting for someone to come through them. He then shifted his weight in his throne, angling his arm so that it supported his head as he continued to stare expectantly at the bronze doors. He then felt his crown starting to slip off his head due to his tilted angle and reached up and stopped its decline by adjusting it. The man sighed out of pure boredom, leaned back in his throne and became limp like a rag doll.

The last few days had been particularly boring; everyone was busy doing one thing or the other, which left him only to wait here for something to happen. Yes, it was his _Sacred_, Imperial duty to stare at a door and wait for something to happen. Perhaps he could sneak off to that balcony overlooking the Hagia Sophia and read for a few hours? He then shook his head, not too vigorously so his crown would not fall off, knowing that if something were to happen that would be the first place his subjects would look for him. He then felt his eyelids slowly falling, his vision starting to become blurry.

"_I'll just rest my eyes for a few minutes..._" was his last thought before everything went black.

* * *

"Psst... Sir..." he barely heard the words, but the gentle poking of one of his aides woke Justinian up. Still groggy, and wanting more sleep to escape his boredom, he swatted away the hand before shifting over so that his back was facing the assistant. The aide then tugged at his crimson cloak hard enough that the medallion that was holding it together was starting to choke him, forcing him to sit upright. He scowled at the man, letting him know of his disapproval, but was more curious as too what was important enough to choke him over. Hopefully something that would alleviate his boredom.

"My Lord, has Montezuma requested an audience with you." Justinian sighed, he had a feeling as too why the deranged man wanted to see him.

"Bring him in." The aide bowed and ran over to the large doors and started to open them. The Aztec on the other side did not even wait for the man to finish opening them, as he pushed them, and the person pulling them, aside and strode up to Justinian.

"Hello, Neighbor!" the extravagantly, if not underdressed, king said enthusiastically. Justinian returned the man's jovial attitude with a stoic countenance.

"Montezuma..." he started, keeping his tone as devoid of emotion as possible. "Here for another "loan" I take it?" The leader standing in front of him looked like he was about to burst into laughter.

"Loan is a bit of a strong word... I prefer gift." he shook his head in irritation, but he was thankful that the man was honest.

"If you are so in need of money, why don't you pawn your hat?" Justinian replied, pointing to the Aztec Leader's golden, plume filled hat.

"Because I would be naked without it!" Montezuma replied as if it were the most obvious reason. Apparently the concept of pants still managed to elude the Aztec.

"So remind me why I'm obligated to give you money whenever you ask?" Justinian replied, hoping to reason with the unbalanced man.

"Because we're neighbors! What's yours is mine and what's mine is mine." he replied, maintaining his jovial attitude.

"Besides, if you don't I would have to sacrifice you to Qeutoz- Quetzalac- the Feathered Serpent!" Justinian rolled his eyes at not only the Aztec's failure to pronounce his own cruel deity's name, but at the sheer ridiculousness of the thought of Montezuma's army defeating his. Still, he was not in the mood to start a war, even if it would make things less boring.

"Very well Julian, what do you want?" the underdressed man seemed exuberant at his acquiescence, even if he was slightly confused at Justinian calling him Julian.

"Thank you! You can be sure I will forget about this act of kindness when you convert one of my cities."

* * *

**1380 BC, Constantinople, Blachernae Palace**

"SIR!" Belisarius burst through the doors to the Throne Room, not even caring to take a look at his surroundings before giving his report.

"Bismarck has- Sir?" he was met with an empty Throne Room, derived even of its most common inhabitant. He then realized that his friend had snuck away to that balcony overlooking the wonder he built, most likely absentmindedly reading while Bismarck's armies entered his borders. True to form, he found the man leaning on a ledge, engrossed in a thick book. He approached the immortal, the sound of his metal boots hitting the marble floors alerting him to his presence. The man closed his book and turned around to face his Great General.

"Ah, Belisarius, always good to see you, my friend. How are my Cataphracts doing?" the man inquired causally, as if he was asking about stock rather than an elite fighting force.

"They're ready to repel Bismarck's invasion." he replied, carefully selecting his words to kill two birds in one stone.

"He's declared war again? Well this should be fun."

* * *

**1380 BC, Border of Constantinople, Hilly Grassland**

Justinian gazed down upon Bismark's -to put bluntly- mob. It was clear most of them were farmers that had been pressed into war and would probably stand no chance against his Cataphracts (or, as Belisarius had once put it, moving blocks of Iron). Before he gave an order for the chainmail covered cavalry behind him to mow them down, he wanted to hear Bismarck's reason for attempting another botched invasion. Riding up to the edge of the hill, with Belisarius and three other Cataphracts in tow, he gazed down upon the massive, and disorderly, army.

"Bismarck!" He could see the tall, intimidating, grey haired man shift through his troops to reach the front.

"Yah?" simply from his tone, what resonated up to him at least, he could tell that he was not in a talking mood.

"Why attack when I crushed you last time?"

"My army zis nearly three times as large as yours!" the man replied, under the "might makes right" mindset.

"That's what you said last time. Before I crushed you." he could hear the man's hearty laughing from his relatively high position.

"Zo? You might have defeated me last time, but I had an army of warriors. Zis time I have Archers!" he announced triumphantly, to which only Justinian and Belisarius could deadpan at.

"Sir, he does know that Archers are worse at combat than warriors are?" the general whispered to the robed man.

"Let's not spoil my fun. Decimate him." Justinian commanded before riding back to his cavalry. The chainmail clad cavalry charged out before he even had gotten back to him, and, as expected, a barrage of arrows did little against the iron encased warriors. Most of them broke formation and fled after the first few lines had been trampled, leaving Bismarck and his Brute corps surrounded. Bismarck, deciding to cut losses, surrendered by paying a rather heavy tribute, and departed with the promise that he would be back when he outnumbered him with inferior troops again. Justinian in turn promised he would crush him the next time Bismarck returned. They shook on it.

* * *

**775 BC****, Countryside of Washington, Farmland**

Justinian, along with a small retinue of Cataphracts and servants, were marching along a small, dirt road to a rather secluded (if not vast) farm on the outskirts of Washington. Washington's aide had informed him that the American Leader had decided to take a short vacation on his farm, and had "helpfully" directed him to the farm.

_"Just keep going until you see something besides crops. Mr. Washington will be there." _easier said than done. For what seemed forever of staring at wheat stalks, an elegant, if not small, farmhouse came into sight at the end of the road. As his party continued to ride, despite the glare of the setting sun, Justinian could make out a group of figures working the fields in front of the Palatial Estate. As he grew closer, he noticed that a man tilling the fields in the front was dressed unusually well for a farmer. The man seemed to hear the sound of the horseshoes, and jerked upright to look at the approaching party. Seeing who it was, the man Justinian could now tell was Washington waved out to him.

"Hidey Ho, Neighbor!" Justinian simply raised his hand in return and continued to ride forward to meet the man. Once getting up to the farmer-president, he dismounted and walked over to the friendly man.

"Ah, Justinian. Why do I have the pleasure of having you drop by my humble abode?" before he could answer Washington continued.

"Well, I'm sure it's nothing we can't talk over dinner. It's getting late and I'm sure you've had a long journey." the thought of a warm meal rather than just the dry biscuits and water that he had been eating for his week-long journey sounded all too appealing for the Emperor, and he could not help but nod eagerly.

* * *

Justinian listened intently as Washington told him about one of his experiences that, despite obviously being fabricated, was regaled with enough finesse that part of him believed it. He was such a kind, if not talkative, man. Deciding that he should start eating the food that had set out before him before it got cold, he dug his fork into his scrambled eggs (not before salting them well, a subtle reminder to him of Washington's monopoly on the salt supply) all the while staring at the brown, flaky food that was next to the bacon.

Curious, and not wanting to offend the man who had taken the time to prepare the food himself, he dug his fork into the dish next, finding it slightly more difficult than he thought to keep the shredded dish from falling off his fork. To his surprise it was delicious.

"What is this?" he asked, stopping the Powdered Wig wearer sitting across from him.

"Oh? Those are hash browns." Justinian nodded in reply and took another bite out of the food.

"So, how about we discuss the nature of your visit?" Justinian swallowed his food and then realized that he had forgotten entirely about the reason why he had made the trek out here in the first place.

"Ah, yes. I was wondering if you would be willing to part with your topographic knowledge?" In response, Washington just stared at Justinian like he had grown a second head.

"What?"

"Would you be willing to share with us your knowledge of the lands west of you? Naturally we'd be willing to pay you a moderate fee for such knowledge." Despite his explanation the man across from him seemed just as confused as before.

"I am sorry to say I do not quite comprehend what you are requesting." Justinian just smiled, deciding that frustration would get him nowhere.

"It's rather simple actually. You just get a piece of parchment and a quill and get someone to draw down the lands you have discovered, then give it to us so we can add it to our maps. In turn we can do the same for you or just pay you in gold if you prefer." Washington only shook his head, rendering the crimson clad man unable to read his expression.

"I'm sorry but I just don't think I can." the man said remorsefully. It was becoming clear to Justinian that the man was just as confused to the reason why he could not provide a map as he was.

"Thanks, Sid..." he muttered bitterly. Washington looked up at him from across the table.

"I'm sorry?" The Emperor realized that his week-long journey here was for nothing, and as he stared at the shredded potatoes, another idea came to mind.

"Well, in the spirit of not leaving empty handed... How much do you want for more of these?" he asked, using his fork to point to the hash browns.

* * *

**1 AD, Constantinople, Blachernae Palace**

Justinian once again stared at the doors expectantly, the only difference from his usual duty of watching them all day was that he was standing in the foyer, waiting for his guests to arrive. How his advisers had managed to talk him into throwing a party to celebrate the new millennium he was not entirely sure, let alone talking him into inviting all of his fellow leaders. Still, the die had been cast and he could only hope that they would be civil for one night.

It was barely after he finished his silent prayer that a obnoxious knock rang out from the other side of the doors. Being as he was the host, he had designated himself to greet the guests and ran up to the doors. Opening one of the heavy, double doors he was up met with the sight of the courtyard.

"Down here, monsieur." Justinian knew the voice all too well and looked downwards to see Napoleon standing in the entryway, his foot impatiently tapping against the marble. Before he could even greet the diminutive man, he handed him his hat and grey tailcoat as if he was some sort of coat rack, causing him to let go of the door as it closed. While the Frenchman started helping himself to the food that had been set out, Justinian looked down at the coat that he had been handed. Had Napoleon taken it off a child's doll?

Another knock rang out from the other side of the door and he repeated the process to find Alexander standing behind the door, with Dido clinging to his arm. He greeted them, thankful that neither had handed him any coats, and they carried on into the room to converse with Napoleon. After pacing the miniature man's tailcoat and bicorn on a nearby chair he got back to the door just in time to open it to meet his latest guest. Bismarck silently entered the room, and rather than speaking, silently sized up his host, as if considering to declare of war on the spot. Rather he just carried on to the gathering crowd, giving Justinian room to let out a sigh of relief.

He turned back to the open door to see both Washington and Nobunaga walking up the stone steps to the doorway. It was clear that Washington was regaling another story to Nobunaga, who listened quietly as the two walked. Upon getting to the top Washington started asking him a variety of questions, while the silent, mustachioed Daimyo merely bowed and hurried inside. Once he finally managed to whisk Washington inside, directing him at the other guests for his sake, he poked his head outside, being met by an empty courtyard and crisp night air.

Surprised that he saw no one else coming, he decided to take a seat in the oak chair that he had placed Napoleon's belongings on. Situating himself, he closed his eyes and let out a yawn. Realizing where he was going, he immediately forced himself up and out of the chair. Falling asleep in front of Montezuma was one thing, in front of the leaders of every civilization while you were hosting an event was another. He then turned as he heard a series of not so gentle knocking.

"Speak of the devil..." he muttered to himself and opened the door. The man on the other side did not wait for the door to fully open and just pushed it, and the man pulling it, aside.

"Hello Neighbor!" Montezuma shouted enthusiastically.

"Neighbor?" he asked, his head darting around, trying to find the host. He then heard the iron door start to scrape against the marble floor and, grabbing the golden door handle, easily pulled the door off a squashed Justinian.

"Deja Vu..." he muttered, dazed. Montezuma then pulled him up and gave him a hug. Justinan, confused, only gave him a pat on the back while looking around for help. Nope, everyone was busy doing one thing or the other. He then tried to squirm out of the Aztec's iron grip to no avail.

"Thank you Montezuma, you can let go now." surprisingly that seemed to work and Montezuma let go before running off towards the food that had been set out, his eye set on a certain dark red beverage that was set out on the table. Fortunately he had the foresight to pour the drink beforehand and lock the rest of the bottles up.

He did not even have a chance to get out from behind the doors before they swung opened again. Fortunately he managed to extended his arms and stop them from crashing into him again. He stepped out from behind them, only to bump into his latest guest. The haughty Pharaoh stumbled back slightly at the unexpected force, but quickly regained his composure. Realizing that it was Justinian who collided with him, he simply huffed indignantly and started walking towards the rest of the group. Justinian rolled his brown eyes at the man's ability to hold a petty grudge for nearly two thousand years.

"Ramesses, all I said was that you might not actually be a god." his reasonable defense of his actions seemed to do little to the Egyptian.

"I still will not forgive you for such a trespass." the self proclaimed deity replied.

"Then why are you here?" Justinian asked.

"Who would pass up an opportunity for free wine?" Justinian was not going to argue with that logic. Not like the Egyptian gave him a chance to anyway, as he strode off towards the table that Montezuma was currently hovering over. Despite not all of the guests arriving, it was clear that most of the other leaders were already enjoying themselves, most of them gorging themselves while listening to Washington. The crimson clad man the heard the pitter-patter of someone entering via the still open door.

"Ah, Justinian, I must thank you for your generosity in hosting this event." he recognized the feminine, delicate voice of Wu Zetian before he even turned around. The small woman smiled, her red lips curling slightly, complimenting her porcelain complexion. He simply nodded and tried to offer a smile in return, cautious as to what she was planning on doing. She then got closer, uncomfortably closer, leaned up and placed a peck on his cheek.

"Try not to make a fool of yourself." she said before heading off as if she did nothing. He blushed fiercely, his cheeks becoming the same color of his robe, and could only stutter like an idiot as he tried to reply. Lord that woman was a master manipulator. Unfortunately, he had the pleasure of greeting the demented Nebuchadnezzar next, who, in order to verify his existence due to his inability to speak clearly, slapped him. Justinian's anger quickly overrode his embarrassment, and he glared at the unapologetic Babylonian. The man callously shrugged, and carried on, muttering something about someone named Daniel and visions.

The last three to arrive were Augustus, Cathrine and Isabella, who were fortunately too busy chattering to engage him in conversation. With all thirteen of his guests present, he went over to the wooden table that the food and drinks were laid out on and picked up a glass and a spoon. He tapped the elaborate piece of silverware against the glass, the sound bringing everyone's attention to him.

"First I would like to say thank you for taking time out of your busy schedules to come to this, and while I know that not all of us are on the best of terms-" he noticed Bismarck and Ramesses scowling at him as he said that. "I hope that we will be able to enjoy the new millennia in peace." While most gave him a quick round of applause and went back to what they were doing, he could see Bismarck approaching him.

"What would you know about peace? You're a warmongering menace." Justinian scoffed at the man's statement while taking a sip from his glass.

"Says the man who declared war on me. Good men died because of your greed, I simply took a few cities to make sure their deaths would not be in vain." his reasoning fell on death ears.

"It's time I told the world of your sins." He then started to tap on his glass with the spoon his host had placed down a few seconds ago, drawing every head in the room to him.

"Everyone, might I have your attention? Our "generous" host zis a threat to the peace, and I want it to be known that he can not be trusted." Justinian absentmindedly took another sip from his drink, seemingly bored with the fact that he was being denounced at his own party. Bismarck's statement caused quite the unrest as the other twelve leaders started talking among themselves. Ramesses, emboldened by Bismarck's actions, decided to chime in and restate what the grey haired German had announced. This in turn, like dominoes, caused Cathrine to denounce Justinian, despite the amicable trade relations between Russia and Byzantium. Finally Nebuchadnezzar decided to contribute, but halfway through his denouncement he started to ramble about a giant statue and a tree.

"Ignoring Nebuchadnezzar, unless if any of you are willing to back up your words with military action do I really have any reason to be concerned?" Justinian asked after finishing off the rest of his glass. Bismarck turned around, his boots squeaking on the pristine floors, and attempted to stare down the Emperor. Despite being a foot smaller, Justinian offered a sarcastic smile followed by a sarcastic remark.

"Enjoy the party."

* * *

**630 AD, Tokyo, Azuchi Palace**

The mustachioed Daimyo, devoid of his usual armor, swung his katana downwards in one swift, almost invisible motion, cutting the training dummy in two clean halves. He then motioned for his student to do so to his dummy as well. Justinian brought his sword back, but as he stepped forward to slice the dummy, he tripped on his crimson robe (which he had refused to change out of), accidentally impaling the sword on the dummy's head and falling face first.

"Did I get it?" his muffled question rang out as the warlord walked over to the dummy.

"Close enough, Justinian-Kun." Nobunaga replied while pulling out the blade from the dummy's head.

"You have improved since last time; this time the dummy only sustained an injury." he then handed the sword back to the other man, before twirling his own.

"Now, wash the cart!" he shouted, swinging the sword sideways. Justinian drove his blade sideways, and, despite lacking the finesse of Nobunaga, managed to block the attack to his side.

"Paint the fence!" he then quickly withdrew his blade from the deadlock and brought it down on Justinian's unprotected head. Repeating his actions from the last time, he managed to block the man's attack at the last moment, though he lacked the strength the Daimyo had. During their short deadlock, the brown haired man noticed a small, nearly unnoticeable, grin start to develop on his teacher's face, before said man knocked him off his feet and sent him into a bucket of water with a mop sticking out of it.

"You still a bit wet behind the ears." Nobunaga said before chuckling to himself, while Justinian tossed aside the mop.

"Thank you, Mr. Miyagi..." he muttered as Nobunaga tossed him a rag.

"Now that you've told your joke for the century, there is something else I would like to talk with you about." the semi-soaked man said through the rag. Nobunaga raised an eyebrow as the man across from him stood up.

"What do you wish to discuss with Nobunaga?"

"I have heard that a certain man in Osaka has invented a device for telling sailors which way they are sailing, and I was wondering if you would be willing to share this technological innovation with us? Naturally we would compensate you."

"Nobunaga does not quite comprehend." a feeling of deja vu started to creep up on Justinian.

"Well, just like you are teaching me how to use a sword, you can get someone to teach one of our mechanics how to make one. Or we could simply purchase one from you and reverse-engineer it." Nobunaga only shook his head, causing Justinian to let out a heavy sigh. What other practical avenues of trade were closed to him?

"Thank you for your time Nobunaga." he then gave a bow to the Daimyo and proceeded to leave through the siding panel door.

"Nobunaga thanks you for your time as well. Farewell Justinian-Kun."

* * *

**1230 AD, Constantinople, Blachernae Palace**

"I'm sorry I am late everyone, but I had a pressing matter to attend to." Justinian hastily apologized as he strode into the open hall, which had been converted into a makeshift meeting place for the Third Congress of Constantinople.

"Was the pressing matter a nap?" Alexander asked sarcastically, causing Justinian to look down in slight shame. "How can you be late to your own meeting, anyway? You are the one who came up with the "brilliant" idea to create a Congress."

Ah yes, the World Congress. An idea he concocted (whether or not he was sober when he did, he could not recall) so that leaders could meet on a relatively neutral ground. The only problem was that it simply became another battle ground for some leader's petty squabbles (the fact that he had not thought of that simply gave credit to the thought that he must have drank something when he concocted this over-glorified debate club) and he was starting to wonder if the expenses were even worth the unmanifested benefits. Still, this was not really the time to be reconsidering this. Sitting down at his seat at the table, adjacent to Napoleon and Augustus, he grabbed the sheets of parchment occupying the table in front of his seat.

"Now, the first item on the list is to vote for the World Leader. Now to save time, I am presuming that everyone will be voting for themselves?" the series of positive replies, both verbal and physical, served as an answer. Justinian then shifted the pages, effectively ending the vote, knowing that no one had enough votes to assume the title of World Leader.

"And now to the second item; the various proposals. Now the proposals on the table are the following; A World Fair, A Banishment of the use of Spices, and an Embargo on Babylon. As per custom, please leave your vote next to the proposal you want or do not want to be passed." He then put his vote down on the piece of parchment his vote with an ink pen, and passed it to his left, letting Augustus put down his vote before passing it on himself. When the paper finally came back to him, he read the results aloud to the assembly.

"Let's see; the World Fair proposal has passed. The proposed ban on spices has failed." why anyone would want to ban spices in the first place was beyond him.

"And finally the embargo on Babylon has also failed." he suspected that most of the people in the room, himself included, were afraid of what the unstable Nebuchadnezzar would do if it passed.

"With that done, I will see all of you again in another two centuries. You are welcome to stay and converse if you like, but I have pressing business to return to."

* * *

Well, with that, this is finally finished. To be honest I am rather uncertain of the ending, and whether or not it was too abrupt. Likewise, as I might have someone complain about this, I am aware that there are only two proposals per World Congress meeting and that the World Leader proposal only happens in the Modern Era, but I had wanted to get into that so I had to bend the rules a bit. Besides my personal doubts on the last section, I hope I managed to achieve my goal of satirizing the poor diplomacy of Civ 5 in a funny way and any feedback on how I did is welcome.

Anyway, thanks for reading.


End file.
